


Besame

by kinfic2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:57:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinfic2/pseuds/kinfic2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin's POV<br/>"The most historic reunification since Germany."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Besame

**Author's Note:**

> Gap filler for Episode 309, Justin's POV

      As if sensing the buzz in the cavernous space, the hypnotic rhythm pulsed harder and louder than usual. Thumping in perfect harmony with rotating beams of vibrant light, it fueled the mood of the drunk and horny crowd. Smooth bodies and tightly muscled chests writhed to its seductive message, _Besame._  
  
      I can feel the vibrations in my body. Every beat zaps a charge of electricity up my spine, adding to the mountain of energy already in my soul. I’m glad we decided to come here tonight, even though we never discussed it. Unless we groaned or grunted it in between _harder_ and _more,_ the subject never came up in our conversations—if we had any. Although Brian can be persuasively loquacious in advertising, that verbal expertise doesn’t extend to his personal life, unfortunately. Under normal circumstances, brevity is his dialogue of choice. When combined with a fierce determination to make up for a multitude of lost fucks in a couple of days, even short and snappy becomes non-existent.  
  
      God, I missed Babylon! Swaying to our own beat, no one else exists, no one else matters. The intoxicating rhythm surges through us like an aphrodisiac. We have to touch, whether it’s a soft caress on a cheek or a gentle brush of hair. A flicker of a smile plays on his lips and I find myself bubbling up with laughter. When he puts his arms around my neck, elbows resting on my shoulders, my skin burns under the heat of his stare. Lust flows through my veins the way alcohol flows down my throat. We’re fully clothed, yet his eyes are fucking me in the middle of the dance floor, announcing to everyone, particularly me, that I belong to him. How I adore this man! I always have and always will, regardless what the future has in store for us. He’s a part of me.  
  
      I still can’t believe we’re here together, that we were able to survive this latest disaster. I learned an important lesson—not only does a relationship take two people to work, it also takes two people to screw it up. It wasn’t all my fault. Even though it would have been a supposed contradiction to his farcical facade of “I don’t believe in love. I believe in fucking,” would it have been such a gross faux pax against his inner sensibilities, such a slur on his carefully crafted reputation to show a miniscule of, dare I say the word, romance?  
  
      He should have warning labels plastered all over him: _Beware! Enter at your own risk! Over-exposure to Brian Kinney could be hazardous to your health! Not user-friendly!_ I knew who he was, what he believed in, but deep down I didn’t want to acknowledge or accept it. Why? Because I wanted more from him. Because I thought I needed more. That’s what started this debacle—my secret hope to win him over to my way of thinking, to break down the barriers just a little. When he bluntly said it was my decision to stay or go, I went. I had to hear those three little words.  
  
      That’s it, plain and simple, and ridiculously stupid. If I had half a brain, I would have realized that he said _I love you_ every day, a perfect example of actions speaking louder than words. But Ethan’s web of romantic illusion so captivated me, I didn’t pay attention to his actions either, actions that resulted in lies. Looking back, maybe Brian did have a point about age and inexperience.  
  
      I almost lost it when Ethan accused me of always forgiving Brian. What he didn’t get was that I never had to forgive him. He never led me on, never promised anything he couldn’t or wouldn’t deliver, and never lied. Brian may be many things, but a liar isn’t one of them.  
   
      I have to buy Daphne something nice for giving me the idea how to get him back, how to get him to take me back. The look on his face was priceless when he first saw me at the agency. I took him by surprise with that move. One point for me.  
  
      He called me into his office after we were introduced, and my self-indulgent triumph quickly turned to uncertainty when he asked, “What the fuck are you doing here?” Even worse, I knew he was onto my game plan and me. One point for him.  
  
      And there were still two major obstacles. Could I make him understand that I knew I had made a mistake? Also, how long would he keep me dangling, playing me until he decided I’d suffered enough? When we had our blow up after the Iconic Optics presentation, his words really hurt. No one can do cutting and sarcastic better than Brian. I had almost lost all hope. But I had to try. Once again, it was up to me. The ball was in my court. Game, set, match.  
  
      Like two parched nomads finding an elusive drink of water and praying it wasn’t a mirage, the fuck in his office was fast and furious. We made it back to the loft in record time, even for Brian. Leaving a trail of scattered clothing, we couldn’t stop touching, needing to reconnect with each other, skin on skin. We spoke without words, the way Brian always did and the way I was only starting to learn.  
  
      This fuck was driven by primal instinct. Animalistic and rough, it allowed us to release the anger and pain we inflicted on each other. It hurt but it was supposed to hurt. Brian punished me and I punished him. It was our mutual catharsis.  
  
      Our recovery rate at an all time high, it wasn’t too long before we started again, as if trying to make up for what we almost lost or simply to make up. Having quenched the desperation that drove the two previous fucks, we took it slow. This one was full of tenderness, a leisurely exploration and enjoyment of each other. This one was a gentle reaffirmation of us.  
  
      Even though Brian would never admit it, particularly to himself, the third time really was the charm, because we weren’t fucking, we were making ridiculously romantic love.  
  
                                                                                                  ~FINI~


End file.
